Prayer
by meilin-m
Summary: Inara gives up. Set after the Big Damn Movie.


"This isn't working."

Malcolm Reynolds looked up from cleaning his guns as he sat in the mess room. "What isn't working? It's working. Ain't it?" He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. "What 'it' are we talkin' about, 'Nara? Cuz I'm confused."

"This. Me. Here." Inara Serra looked cautiously around before sweeping the rest of the way into the room and sitting down on the edge of a chair to Mal's right. "Why am I here, Mal?"

He quirked a smile at her as he oiled a trigger lock. "Seems to me that's a question for some of your philosophical folks."

"Stop that. You know exactly what I mean." In thoughtless frustration, Inara dragged a hand through her thick black hair, snagging a ring in her carefully arranged curls. By the time she tugged it loose, her hair had halfway tumbled down with it. "Dammit, Mal!"

"What! I'm just sittin' here peaceably cleaning my guns!"

Inara slammed both of her hands down, open-palmed, on the table top. Mal jumped. "I had hoped," she said, her cultured voice breaking, "that after everything this crew has been through--everything WE have been through--Mal, are we anything to each other?" Mal's falsely casual face closed.

Inara stood up, her dark eyes bright. "I've said too much. I'm sorry. I just--I don't think I can dance this dance any more, and I don't know what to do." And with a soft rustle of silk, she almost ran back to her shuttle.

Mal abandoned his dismantled revolver and kicked away from the table. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.

He felt a kiss on his nose and opened his eyes again, startled. An upside-down face appeared, veiling them both in long brown hair. "Hello, Captain Stupidhead," said River.

Mal tilted himself upright. River sat down at the table, pulling the pieces of the revolver toward her.

"Captain Stupidhead?" he said, mildly outraged. "Could be a bit more respectful, little albatross. And what are you doin' awake this hour anyway?"

"Who could sleep with all this racket?" she said, expertly reassembling the revolver.

"Racket?! Couldn't hear a shoutin' match up here from your quarters! And there weren't no shoutin' goin' on."

River gave him the look usually reserved for her brother and sighed. "I don't only hear with my ears, Captain Stupidhead."

"Again with the Stupidhead! And eavesdroppin's impolite, however you do it!"

"It's not eavesdropping when it's impossible not to hear. I keep telling Simon and Kaylee that, but they just can't be quiet. Simon was never very religious but whenever they're having sex he calls on God quite a bit for some reason. Preacher would be proud." She spun the revolver, squinted down its barrel, and handed it back to Mal grip-first.

"Really more than I wanna know, mei-mei," he said, accepting it.

"Try being me," she said, with an impish smile.

"So you tellin' me why I'm a stupidhead, or I have to ask to be insulted?"

"You just did." She got up and began walking on graceful tiptoe, arms outstretched, as if she were on a balance beam. "You are a stupidhead because you are. Tautological, but accurate."

"In stupidhead, please."

River got to the end of the imaginary balance beam, pirouetted 180 degrees and began to tiptoe back. "A heart is given but not taken. Incontrovertible evidence is presented but not trusted." She stopped, and slammed both palms down on the table top, making him jump again. "In short, you're a stupidhead." She crossed to the hatchway leading back to the guest quarters. "You and Inara need to call on God. Like Simon and Kaylee. Preacher would say prayer's good for the soul." River smiled, and disappeared down the stairs.

Mal rubbed his face and sighed, thinking of Book. "Don't think that's the kind of prayer Preacher had in mind," he said softly to himself. Then again. Book's last words to him were "I don't care what you believe, just believe it."

"The door is closed," called River up the stairs, "but not to you!"

"River, stop that!"

* * *

Mal stood before the door of Inara's shuttle, hesitating for a moment before opening it and stepping through. The shuttle was still opulent and comfortable, but half-heartedly, as if for its occupant only and not for company.

Inara looked up from the bed, eyes wet. "Knocking? Ever?!"

Mal shifted on his feet. "Heard the door might just be open."

Inara quickly wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, composed herself as best she could and stood up. "This is the part of the dance where you offer me some hope and I deflect it angrily." She looked up into Mal's questioning face. "And then we argue, and then you stomp off. And then we do it all over again from the beginning. And I can't do it any more, Mal," she said, her voice catching. "I just can't." She put her hand to her mouth, and broke into sobs. "You've ruined me."

Mal's breath came harder. "Ruined you?! Ruined you how!" he nearly shouted.

"By making me love you!" she cried. "I give, Mal, you win! I love you! Oh, don't look at me like that," she said at his blank stare. "You know very well." She began to pace back and forth next to the bed. "I can't work any more. All I'm fit for is teaching now. And that's a good life, and a useful life, and I can go back to it. And perhaps it's best, even if every kiss makes me think of you, even when I'm kissing a woman."

"Wait--kissin' a woman makes you think of me?!"

Inara raised her eyes and hands to the ceiling in supplication and dropped them. "Mal," she said quietly, looking straight at him, "everything makes me think of you."

He studied her tear-stained face. No makeup, bloodshot eyes, hair every which way, nose red and runny from crying. Aiya, she was beautiful. "'Nara--"

"So which is it, Mal? Do I have a reason for being here? Or am I going back?"

"Were up to me, you'd never leave."

"Well, as it happens, it IS up to you."

He crossed to her, took her hand in one of his and cupped her face with the other, wiping tears away with his callused thumb. "Stay."

"Why, Mal?" she whispered, her breathing fast. "Why. I need to hear you tell me why."

"Because...because I love you." He swallowed hard, staring down into her eyes. "So you win, 'Nara. I love you. Don't go." Mal hesitantly moved his head toward her--but to his shock, Inara grabbed him by the hair and pulled her to him before he could reach her lips himself.

He put his arms around her and clung to her as they kissed, desperately, passionately, clumsily. Inara lost her balance. She clutched futilely at a hanging, but ended up pulling them both down in a heap on the bed, the hanging atop them. They both flailed at the fabric, untangling themselves from it and each other. They lay side by side on the bed, breathless and laughing.

"You see, Mal? You've ruined me! I'd be kicked out of the Guild just for that alone."

"Here's how it is, 'Nara," he said, suddenly serious as he stroked her flushed cheek. "Never gonna be pretty on this boat. It's a rough life, and that's sure. You know that. Woman like you is used to finer things. But whatever I have, whatever I am--it's yours." His blue eyes were dark in the low light. "Been that way a long time now anyways."

Inara put her hand over his. "You are as fine a price as I've ever been paid, and all the payment I'll ever want."

Mal's face clouded. "Wu de ma, woman," he said in frustration at the reminder. He closed his eyes for a moment. Believe, came Book's voice in his head, just believe it.

He opened his eyes again and pulled her to him, his gaze clear and purposeful. "Ain't enough money in the 'verse, ain't nobody could truly afford you, leastways me. You are that precious. Most precious thing there is." His rough hands framed her face. "I ain't buyin' you."

"I give myself to you." She kissed him softly, leaving him open mouthed with desire. "A gift. There, Malcolm." She kissed him again, more urgently. "Give yourself to me."

His voice was thick. "Oh, 'Nara, you got me already."

She smiled then, bright in the dim of the shuttle. "Then I'm taking what's mine."

* * *

Down in the guest quarters, River lay on her back on her bed, one leg bent at the knee, the other crossed and bobbing lazily atop it. Prayer all over the ship tonight, she smiled to herself. Preacher would be proud. 


End file.
